One workday at a time, one step after another, Erick Singleton moves toward what he hopes to be a better life.

For Singleton, it’s hard work just getting to work, almost entirely by foot power. Over the past several months, the 23-year-old mostly has walked to and from work, a distance of more than 13 miles each way. That’s a three-hour trek, much longer during snowstorms.

Recently, the trip got a little easier, thanks to a used bike that can cut Singleton’s trip in half. But it’s a BMX, a small-wheel motocross bike, meaning he needs plenty of pedal power to churn all the way to work.

“This is the only way I can survive,” he says flatly. “ … I just do it every day. It’s no big deal.”

During his morning time on the road, mostly through farmland, he pushes forward alone, except for occasional cars and trucks zooming through the dark. The trip allows a sojourn of a different sort, via meditation and prayer. Before dawn, he can glimpse no horizon, except in his mind.

“I always ask God for forgiveness,” he says. “I also ask for Him to help me, with a better life.”

*****

Singleton’s weekdays begin early. His departure point is Green Diamond Apartments, 6516 N. University St., once known as Gaslight Square. From there, he will go north on University Street for 1.3 miles, east on Pioneer Parkway for a mile, then 11.3 miles north on Illinois Route 40.

At the end of that journey sits Edelstein, an old, unincorporated farm town of several dozen homes, many of them covered in clapboard. Aside from the small post office, the commercial district begins and ends with International Supply Co. The metal fabricator’s 100-plus employees specialize in making generators.

About six months ago, the jobless Singleton caught on at International Supply. It’s a long way from Peoria, but it’s work.

For months, Singleton would set his alarm clock for 2 a.m. After quickly dressing, he’d hit the pavement, clipping along at a brisk amble that would get him to work just before 5 a.m. start time.

The lean Singleton — about 5-foot-7, 150 pounds — didn’t sweat the walk. But when snow hit, he’d have to get up at midnight to trudge five hours to Edelstein. Even with last winter’s brutal snow, Singleton rarely missed work, much to the amazement of his supervisors.

“Even on the colder days, he’d get here,” says Denis Coventry, production manager.

Page 2 of 4 - Singleton recalls just one day — he forgets the date — when the elements almost made him turn back. A massive blizzard pounded at him for more than five hours, but he finally got to his job.

“That was the most pain I ever felt in my life,” he says.

Later, a supervisor asked him to work outside. Singleton, though not one to complain, explained that the long trek had left him with no feeling in his feet. The wide-eyed supervisor let Singleton stay put.

“He was pretty amazed,” Singleton says with a chuckle.

That day, he finally felt sensation in his toes by 1:30 p.m., leaving him two hours to warm up before quitting time — and the long walk back to Peoria. But that day, a co-worker gave him a lift home.

Sometimes, Singleton will catch rides from colleagues. But he has little discretionary income, so he can’t afford gas money. Besides, he doesn’t like to impose.

Still, he looks for ways to ease the burden. Some nights, Singleton will sleep in a public gazebo just north of Peoria.

“That way, I don’t have to get up so early,” he says.

About a month ago, he sought an upgrade in transportation. He spotted an ad for a used bike, but not a distance-designed mountain bike or touring bike. Rather, it was a BMX — specifically, a Gary Fisher model, which Singleton recognized from his teen hobby of trick riding. Even used, those models can demand three figures, but this one — weathered but sound — was priced at $60. The seller asked Singleton about his plans for the bike. When Singleton explained that it would be his work vehicle, the seller gave it to him — no charge.

Via bike, the one-way work trip can be cut to 1 1/2 hours. Even with few vehicles along the state route, he often hugs the shoulder, especially at night. When he hears the approaching rumble of an occasional rig, he braces himself.

He says with a grin, “They blow my hat off.”

That hat is often a newer snapback ball cap that vows: “Only God can judge me.” Such thoughts are on his mind often. During his roadwork, he sometimes plugs in music — his favorites are R&B and contemporary Christian — but mostly spends the time taking to God.

Singleton seeks divine direction and help, but not regarding his work trips. In fact, he is considering upping the daily challenge.

“I’ve been thinking I should jog to work,” he says.

Page 3 of 4 - Running would be more physically demanding. He knows it.

“I like hard things,” he says.

That stands to reason. Most of his life — by bad luck or bad choice — has been hard.

********

Singleton speaks well and speaks softly. He sounds introspective and pensive while discussing a past filled with missteps, some his own. He can turn a bit dour regarding his uphill climb, but his voice carries no trace of bitterness.

He does not know his mother’s identity. He has met his father, but rarely sees him. He knows of no other relatives.

His youth was spent in Peoria and East Peoria, under foster care. How many foster families? “Many” is his best guess. Singleton doesn’t care to talk in detail about those situations, saying only that — for multiple reasons — he often didn’t connect with host families.

In second grade, he had his first encounter with police. Unhappy with a strict foster mom, he ran away abruptly. Realizing he’d need clean clothes for school the next day, he went to a mall and stole an outfit. Near his foster home, He hunkered down in a clump of bushes to spend the night, but police found him — and took him to a new foster home.

In high school in East Peoria, he began getting in trouble. His record includes several misdemeanors and ordinance violations, mostly involving underage drinking. He also has had a dozen traffic tickets. He has not had a valid driver’s license since age 17.

About that time, he was expelled from school, for multiple instances of disobedience that Singleton declines to discuss. The fall-out continues to this day: booted from school, he stepped out on his own and into a messy future. He has spent several years with rare permanent address, either couch-surfing with pals or scratching out life on the street. Jobs have come and gone: his last employment, with a construction firm in 2013, ended when he kept falling asleep on company time in the company van.

“Nothing seems to stick,” he says.

But he casts no bitter blame toward anyone but himself. Even there, he seeks divine forgiveness and uplifting. About six months ago, he felt he’d pretty much hit rock bottom.

“I was just staying on the street and begging God for a job,” he says.

A referral service pointed him to International Supply. He likes the job — “everybody is nice,” he says — and he’s even learning welding. And at $11 an hour, he has been able to rent his modest apartment in Peoria — there are no available rentals anywhere near Edelstein — at $550 a month. He could rent more cheaply elsewhere in Peoria, but in neighborhoods brimming with safety concerns and bad influences.

Page 4 of 4 - He says most of the rest of his pay — after taxes and other deductions — gets gobbled up by utilities, food and other necessities. And he admits to a smoking habit of a half-pack a day.

So, come weekends, he does little socializing. He’ll go to church on Saturday night, sometimes Sunday too. He learned that routine from one of his foster mothers, and his spirituality has grown into a habit.

Otherwise on weekends, he sometimes tries to write songs. Though he never has performed as a singer or in a band, he envisions a music career.

“I’m ready for a big change,” he says. “My goal is to change and work with my music. That would be nice.”

Toward that route, Singleton says he feels nudges to venture to California, Florida or Texas. He thinks about taking a bus halfway, then bike until he finds wherever he is supposed to be: he’ll know it when he sees it.

“I think I might meet some people,” he says with a self-conscious smile. “It sounds crazy.”

But, with that kind of faith, he says he can realize the promise of a better future.